


Letting Me Love You

by DeltaS



Category: Star Trek: Voyager
Genre: "Endgame" - AU, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-04
Updated: 2016-07-04
Packaged: 2018-07-21 14:12:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 19,173
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7390396
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DeltaS/pseuds/DeltaS
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A re-write of “Endgame”. What if Admiral Janeway had a more personal reason to go back in time and change the outcome for Voyager? What if she appeared at a different time and place in their Delta Quadrant wanderings? What if?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Letting Me Love You

**Author's Note:**

> Originally written and posted February 2005.
> 
> I’ve usurped, mangled, digested and spat out my own interpretations (and sequences!) of events within the ST: Voyager episodes of “Endgame”, “Scorpion”, “Resolutions” and probably several others. Also – a nod of acknowledgement and appreciation to Christie Golden for her post-“Endgame” novels.

~*~

_The twilight years of life – a time for reflection and serenity. The impulsiveness of youth fades into the shadows of life, leaving only the memories… and frequently, the pain of regret._

~*~

By all human standards, Kathryn Janeway’s life had been one of honor and success. Here she was – at age seventy-one – one of the most distinguished admirals in Starfleet. She led the starship Voyager through its twenty-three long years of wandering; and, with its return to Earth, instituted the technology to vanquish the Borg once and for all from the Alpha Quadrant and beyond. Ten years later, her stoic spirit still performed miracles for Starfleet, lending her negotiating skills throughout three quadrants of the galaxy. Kathryn Janeway was one of the brightest and best. She could look back on her life as having fulfilled the highest aspirations of any of Starfleet’s finest.

But today was Sunday, and every Sunday was the same. Every week on this day, she peeled back all the layers of achievement and glory; every Sunday she laid her innermost self open to the two failures in her life that never showed up in any official documentation, never recorded in any log – only recorded in her deepest psyche, the place that never knew peace. Every Sunday she descended into her private hell.

No matter what the weather, no matter how she felt physically, whenever she was within transporter range of San Francisco, she made two visits – to visit her two dearest friends. One had ceased his physical existence, buried these ten years but dead in his soul for many years before. The other, though still alive physically, became less of himself as demons destroyed his neurological processes, demeaning his once inimitable logical mind into one of thrashing chaos – he might as well be dead, too, for what he had become.

So every Sunday, she made the two trips – one to the simple site where Chakotay lay interred and then to the Starfleet medical facility where Tuvok spent his ravished days – and nights. Every Sunday, she faced the loss of her friends, damning her own success, offsetting every one of her honors with their descents into personal torment.

Both outcomes were preventable, neither having had to happen, if only she hadn’t been so damned tunnel visioned and stubborn. Oh yes – she had to think of her crew as a whole, all hundred and forty-eight people she started out with thirty-three years earlier in the Delta Quadrant – but wasn’t there a way she could have saved them, too? Had it really been worth it? As it was, there were twenty-two fewer aboard from their original crew manifest – and thirteen children had been born over those years – but to lose Chakotay – and now Tuvok – through nothing more than her own obstinate agenda was the price she paid. Each week the burden became more excruciating; she was beginning to think that she soon would join Tuvok in his descent into madness.

Although the rest of Voyager’s returned crew were not without physical and emotional scars from their long sojourn within the Delta Quadrant, for the most part, they gradually adjusted to life back ‘home’. Tom and B’Elanna, a comfortable middle-aged couple with a grown daughter, reveled in their life-style – Tom as a successful holonovel author, B’Elanna with an ever-growing career in Starfleet as official liaison to the Klingon empire. Their grown daughter, Miral, followed in her parents’ Starfleet tradition and now, as a beautiful ensign, served as a personal aide to Admiral Kathryn Janeway. The EMH, with his developed bon vivance and charisma, actively crusaded for the rights of holograms while serving with a prestigious Federation think tank. In his quest for equality, he had even married a human, a beautiful younger woman named Lana. Harry Kim excelled all expectations and no longer had to await the night shift to sit in the ‘big chair’ of a starship; now he assumed use the captain’s chair all alone, as captain of the USS Rhode Island.

This Sunday, the tenth day of May in the year 2404, according to the Terran calendar, Kathryn Janeway stood looking down at the flat engraved stone that denoted Chakotay’s grave. The site was in an isolated area on a grassy hillside outside of San Francisco. A thick copse of Spanish firs, California buckeyes and live oaks loomed behind the pale grey stone, ancient life casting shadows across a memorial to a life that had at one time been as stalwart and eternal as these arboreal giants. White petals from blossoms on the buckeye tree flowed in the springtime air like tears, gently washing the woman, losing themselves in the whiteness of her hair, anointing the stone with their fragile paleness.

Her blue eyes, dimmed somewhat by age, burned brightly. All of her tears have been spent, some shed in public but most flowed in private; they etched themselves permanently in fevered memory. Just as she had done on hundreds of other Sundays, she knelt beside the plaque and brushed aside the petals and leftover dry leaves. Just as she had done on hundreds of other Sundays, she kissed her fingertips and gently drew them across his name. Just as one hundreds of other Sundays, she murmured his name with reverence and love. But today, instead of burying all other words as silent prayers, she spoke aloud, as if he were sitting next to her, as he had for all those long years on Voyager.

“I’ve made my decision, my dear friend. I know; you’re telling me that I’m being impulsive, that I haven’t considered the consequences.” With a painful effort, she stood again, a smile cutting a crooked swath across her face, erasing the burden of the years. “I hear what you’re saying, but you know I must do what I think is right. But when I’m through, it will be better for all of us.”

She turned to leave, but had an afterthought. Final words to her friend. “Trust me,” she smiled, as the tears finally welled up in her eyes. “I have always loved you… and always will.”

Her second visit that day was not easy, either. Tuvok’s personal darkness reflected in the shadowed darkness of his room as she entered. Even the slight amount of light that seeped into the room as she opened the door assaulted his deteriorating eyesight, and brought a very un-Vulcan like cry from him. “The light!” he managed to rasp.

She closed the door, letting her eyes adjust to the dim candlelight that gave what little illumination there was to the sparsely furnished room. Tuvok sat on the floor, surrounded by disheveled papers, scratching on one of them with an old fashioned stylus.

“Tuvok – do you know who I am?” she asked gently.

Without looking up, he answered with harsh Vulcan resolve. “Of course; you are Admiral Janeway. You visit me on Sundays; today is Sunday.”

She knelt beside him. “Yes, today is Sunday. But, Tuvok, I have come to say good bye.”

He looked up at her, his eyes focused on a place far beyond them. “Is it time for you to go already?”

“No, I’ll be here a while longer today. But… I’m going away for awhile.” She swallowed, not knowing how she could say this. “I may not be back.”

“No, that is not true. You always come back. You have business that takes you away, but you always come back.” He continued his writing.

“But this time may be different,” she said softly.

“Are the Doctor and Commander Barclay going with you?” he asked.

She leaned over to him, running her fingers across his burnished forehead. “No, they will stay here and continue to come to see you; they’ll bring you anything you need.”

He shook his head in response. “The Doctor will come on Wednesdays, but Mr. Barclay is not… as regular.” He seemed confused by Barclay’s erratic visits, but he continued writing.

She sighed and stood up, only to lean down again, gently kissing him on his cheek. “Good bye, my old friend,” she whispered softly. “I know that it is not logical to talk about ‘luck’; but with any luck, the next time we meet, things will be much different.”

She walked over to the heavy dresser along the wall, its surface covered with candles, memory lamps and other Vulcan paraphernalia. She quietly placed another piece among the hodgepodge of items – a teacup and saucer, chipped and worn. Her favorite teacup – from Voyager… and happier times.

Tuvok shielded his eyes as she opened the door, his only reaction to her departure, as he continued with his obsessive task. She closed the door and sighed.

These two visits, as difficult as they were, constituted the easy part of what she planned.

~*~

Depression is a self-fulfilling – and feeding – condition. At its center is the desire to block out all but the self... to abhor all contact with other beings… to feed off its own self-loathing. Yet the ‘cure’ is a paradox; in order to alleviate the symptoms, one must immerse one’s self into that which is feared the most – the hubbub of daily life, to reach out and interact with others.

Voyager’s former three senior officers fell into the entanglement of depression and each responded to it in his or her own way. When Chakotay – always ready to help others –came face to face with the demonic horror, he withdrew into himself in a way that a spirit walk would seem like karaoke night on the holodeck. He became his own black hole, falling more and more into himself until there was nothing left. With all spirit gone, he left life behind.

Tuvok’s version had a definite physiological foundation, a degenerative disease that was curable. But when he was diagnosed – and could have been treated, in the early stages of the disease – treatment was impossible, for the only cure was a mind meld with a member of his own family… a family that only existed in the Alpha Quadrant, thousands of light years away where he was in the Delta Quadrant. Thus, he fell deeper into his madness.

Janeway, who had had bouts of depression throughout her life, had responded this last time with a determined spirit – she would work her damnedest, forcing herself into the thick of Starfleet life and politics. Only on Sundays did she retreat into her hole of self-incrimination and loathing.

That was… until a week ago. The jolt to her life came as a question in the Starfleet Academy class where she was giving her annual guest lecture in Reg Barclay’s class on the Borg. She had been giving the same lecture for several years and the questions seemed to be repetitive and predictable; she could answer them in her sleep. This year’s appearance began no differently – questions about how the Borg collective operated; what the Queen really was like; how they finally outwitted the galactical bully. She was answering on autopilot.

But then came a question that rocked her to consciousness. A female voice from within the depths of the lecture room asked, “Admiral, how extensive was Seven of Nine’s involvement in your dismantling of the Borg? Did her presence on Voyager have any other ramifications?”

Never before had a student questioned the actions of Seven of Nine specifically. Seven of Nine… whose knowledge of the Borg and their technologies indeed saved Voyager and enabled Starfleet to adapt these technologies when the ship returned… Seven of Nine who had been her prodigy, her student, her daughter. Seven of Nine… who pierced her heart, who read her deepest desires and then who betrayed her.

She froze momentarily before answering. “I… I don’t want to discuss Seven of Nine,” Janeway snapped, much more harshly than she had intended. There was something in her voice that told the young cadet that the subject should be dropped immediately. Janeway took a deep breath and cleared her throat. “Any more questions?” The room succumbed to a deadly silence. “Then let’s talk about nanoprobe technology…” The rest of the session proceeded and the tensions lessened.

But the question had had more of an effect on Janeway than she had thought it should. What had happened, had happened. Without Seven, Voyager would never had survived more than a few years in the Delta Quadrant; the young woman had been a godsend. And she had come to have more than respect for her; Janeway loved the brash Borg/human. The problem was, she wasn’t the only one who had come to love her.

At that time, seven years into Voyager’s odyssey, Janeway hadn’t noticed the small changes in Seven and Chakotay. Not until the night when she asked him to dinner and he said that he had ‘other plans’, the words spoken with a slight hesitation, a bit of guilt. She tossed it off, giving him a rain check on the invitation. But she started noticing certain things – how Chakotay and Seven seemed to be spending more and more time together, both on duty and off. However, their actions were personal, and she abided by the old adage of ‘don’t ask, don’t tell’. They adhered to strictest decorum and any intimacy was discreet to the point of being nonexistent. So it was that she had no choice but to give the pair her blessing when they came to her and asked to be married.

Jealousy wasn’t her ‘thing’ – it never had been and she wasn’t going to let it be now. After all, what right did she have to ‘claim’ Chakotay? Hadn’t they settled that difference almost five years ago? Hadn’t they decided that the relationship that had begun on New Earth was a detriment to the fulfillment of their purpose, their duties? If so, why did she have these nasty twinges as she watched the relationship develop between Chakotay and Seven bloom and mature?

The day of their wedding – it seemed like it was just last week, not twenty-six years ago! – was a celebration indeed. The entire crew contributed with decorations, flowers, entertainment and food and drink. The festivities went on for two days. Much to her surprise, Captain Janeway noticed that just about the entire crew seemed to have known about their first officer and the adopted now adapted Borg. This realization stung her initially; it seemed the crew had created a form of mutiny regarding the relationship. Then again, she was probably reading too much into it; after all, no one on board had ever known about her and Chakotay – never. She had kept her end of the bargain and she thought she knew him enough – trusted him enough – not to divulge anything about their relationship.

And five years – well, five years was a long time, especially when they had no idea… no sense of hope… of a quick trip back to the Alpha Quadrant, and Chakotay was a man who required a physical and emotional sense of being needed. She learned that during their time together on New Earth; she had seen how he blossomed when given the opportunity to ‘do his own thing’, to call his own shots. Many times, during the following years, whenever she felt those moments of deep doubt, she wondered if indeed he should have been captain of Voyager. However, the moment they set foot again on Voyager from their exile on that lonely planet, all was by the book – they both had agreed to this. So he became the faithful first officer, ready to listen and counsel and perhaps advise; but when the call needed to be made, he acquiesced to her decisions, even when he thought them to be wrong. She saw his personality fade back into an almost subservient attitude, gradually becoming devoid of the sparkle and humor of their earlier years.

After Chakotay and Seven were married, they each took on a new personality. Like a synergistic reaction, they fed off each other’s strengths and energies. When on duty, they performed with enhanced expertise and skill; during their off times, they learned to enjoy the simple pleasures that Voyager afforded. Their unification, just a year after that of Tom and B’Elanna, set the stage for several more marriages on Voyager and soon, others joined Tom and B’Elanna in becoming parents. Janeway wondered if Chakotay and Seven would be able to have children – she knew both of them liked children – but as the years went by, no by-product of the marriage came about. Neither of them said anything about their desires on the subject, and so she once more didn’t ask. She told herself that she was content just to see him so alive again, almost as happy as she had remembered him on New Earth.

Then came that fateful day, the day that was to change their all lives forever. Seven had gone on a routine trip to an M-class planet to investigate a source of strong radiation. Initial scans indicated some rich veins of dilithium and Chakotay assigned her to lead an away team to try to bring back some of the always-in-demand element for their needs. It was a normal enough assignment, a cut and dry job.

The team discovered a supply of almost pure dilithium and had secured several hundred kilos. Three crewmen and Seven busied themselves exiting the cave where they made their discovery, readying their treasure and themselves for the beaming up to the ship.

Seven looked around and realized that one of their party was missing. Turning back into the large opening of the rocky edifice, she called out “Crewman Henry, are you all right? Do you require assistance?”

The crewman’s voice echoed back, a bit of panic in it. “Seven, my foot is caught in a crevice and I can’t seem to get it pulled out.”

“I’m on my way,” Seven answered. “Wait here,” she instructed the others before reentering the cave area.

Justine Henry indeed was trapped by one of the outcroppings coming up from the cavern’s floor. Even trying to pull off her boot wasn’t helping the situation and her short arms couldn’t reach the loosest rocks on top. Seven knelt beside her and began plucking the rocks off until the foot – and boot – popped out. “Can you move your foot?” Seven inquired. “Are you damaged?”

Henry tested the foot before attempting to put any weight on it. She winced, tugging at her boot, and Seven pulled out her tricorder. “It would seem that you have a severe sprain of your ankle. However, there are no broken bones. I am certain that the Doctor will be able to take care of your injury with no problem.” She extended her hand to the crewman and pulled her up.

As Justine Henry limped out of the cave, Seven turned to retrieve the crewman’s boot, this time loosing her own footing and falling down. As her body made its downward plunge, she hit the side of the cave, knocking several rocks loose from the skree at the foot of a talus. At first, a trickle of debris fell; she muttered a few words of unpleasantness. As she kicked the material away, she glanced up and found herself looking into a roaring slide of tons of rock. She tried to scream, but the sound was silenced in the roar. The speed of the slide was so fast that she didn’t have time to move; she became entombed underneath the falling rock.

The wave of sound of the slide roared towards the entrance of the cave. Justine Henry turned at the sound, a cold panic rushing through her body. She yelled back inside. “Seven! Seven! Are you okay?” Her attempt to return was halted by the dust and rubble being dumped further in. The three others quickly joined her, horrified at the sight that met them, needing no words to tell them that their leader was buried underneath the three-meter tall mound of rock.

Biddle, Tal Celes and Larson ran towards the rocky mound, in horror and disbelief. “No,” shouted Henry, quickly assuming a command lead, halting the others from dislodging any of the unstable rocks. “We’ve got to wait till things settle before we attempt anything; any attempts now could cause more slides.”

She limped over to the crewmen. “Larson, we can’t get any communication from in here; go outside and notify Voyager. They can bring down equipment to expedite the work.”

Ron Larson exited, afraid of breaking the news but knowing that they needed help – and needed it fast. “Voyager, this is Larson. We’ve had an accident and we think Seven of Nine is buried underneath a rock slide.”

The message relayed to the bridge of the ship, Larson’s words falling upon Chakotay as heavily as the rocks had fallen on Seven. “Seven!” he cried out, looking at Janeway. “Captain… Kathryn… I’ve got to go…”

Janeway grabbed his arm, wrestling him back as he sprung away from his command chair; it was all she could do to hold him back. “No, Chakotay; not you. This time it isn’t right for you to go.” She looked over to Tuvok. “Mr. Tuvok, assemble an away team and see what you can do.”

“Right away, Captain,” the tall Vulcan answered, nodding to Harry Kim to join him. Any further attempt that Chakotay made to go to Seven’s rescue dissolved as shock overtook him. His muscles lost all will to hold him upright as he fell into a quivering huddle at Janeway’s feet. Sobs wracked his frame, sobs she had heard before but from faintly through the shadows of an afterlife years ago.

She knelt beside him, holding him in her arms and rocking him. “Shhh, shhh; I’m sure everything will be all right. We’ll beam her directly to sickbay. Seven is strong, Chakotay; you know that.” The bridge crew watched in stunned dismay, sharing the pain of their second in command.

She continued rocking him for several minutes until his body became still. “Now – let’s get you to sickbay. She’s going to need you there.”

Janeway nodded to Tom Paris, silently giving him bridge command, as she helped the devastated first officer to his feet. She cradled his arm and shoulder and led him to the turbolift. They walked through the doors of sickbay less than a minute from their exit from the bridge, but it seemed like an hour had passed.

The EMH met them at the door. “We’re ready,” he said softly. “They should have her free in another minute or two.”

Sixty-five seconds later, Seven’s bloody, battered form materialized. The surrounding air became thick with the earthy odors of the beamed atmosphere and pungent with the metallic tang of her spilled blood. Harry and Kris Biddle carefully transferred her supported immobilized form onto the readied biobed. Without acknowledging the presence of the two senior officers, he relayed their initial findings. “She’s alive, Doc, but Tuvok said that it looks bad. Multiple head injuries, a crushed spine, multiple broken bones…”

“And massive internal bleeding,” continued the doctor, scanning her and placing the life support indicators on her body. “We need blood replacement, electrolytes and a fibrillator,” he barked at the attending nurse. “Now!” Ensign Lang scurried to get the needed medications.

Chakotay broke away from Janeway’s support, stumbling over to the bed. “Not now, Commander; let me do my work,” snapped the EMH. The dazed man backed off, confused and devoid of any mooring. He slumped onto the med cart next to the bed, his strength drained. Janeway followed him, reaching for his hand. His fingers intertwined with hers as they waited.

“Cortical stimulator!” the doctor’s voice demanded. “Two hundred joules.” Chakotay’s eyes opened wide as Seven’s form jumped with the applied energy. “Again,” the doctor instructed, followed by a third request.

Seven’s eyes flitted open and Chakotay ran to her. Ignoring the doctor’s request to move away, he pulled her into his arms. “Seven, please… hang on; don’t leave me!”

The only parts of her that seemed to be able to move were her lips, which curled into a weak smile. “Chakotay,” she whispered. “I love… you.” A cold quiver rippled through her body, finding its termination in him. The gray of her eyes rapidly clouded over; her skin began to lose its warmth.

Silence. Six pairs of eyes moved in tandem to the screens of the med readouts. No leaping lines, no zigzags of life. Nothing.

It was over.

A guttural cry came from deep within Chakotay. “No!!!!” he cried out into the thick stillness of the room, pulling her lifeless form deep into his embrace.

Moments passed, but no one moved, afraid of taking her from his cradling arms, each of them locked in his own world of shock and disbelief. Janeway felt as if her own heart were breaking, for, in spite of her ambivalence towards Seven over the past few years, she had come to love and care for the woman.

Finally, the EMH quietly moved over to Chakotay, gently prying his arms and hands from around Seven, laying her inert body back onto the biobed. Tears welled in his own eyes and stained his cheeks. “I’m sorry, Commander; I truly am. I… I loved her, too, you know.”

Harry’s eyes turned towards Janeway, silently asking her what they would do now; she read the grief and fear reflected in his gaze. Steeling her own courage, she forced herself to walk over the trio of stunned crewmates. She was fighting back her own tears but knew that she had to be strong for all of them. “Harry,” she said, placing her hands on his shoulders, “I think you, Ron and Kris should go to your quarters. I’ll announce this… news… to the entire ship momentarily.”

They nodded their understanding and stumbled out of the sickbay, trying to remember how to get to their quarters.

As the doors closed behind them, she went over to Chakotay and pulled him into her embrace. “My dear wonderful friend, I… I know that you hurt. This is a horrible loss and…”

His head turned suddenly, his eyes full of loss and hurt and tears. “Do you really know that, Kathryn? How can you know that? It’s never seemed to bother you before. But now… now I’ve lost both of you. I lost you a long time ago, and now I’ve lost her.” He pulled himself out of her reach and staggered back to his wife’s pale form.

Janeway rocked back into the biobed behind her, stung… stunned… by the vehemence of his words, the cold cruelty they carried. “Chakotay, what do you mean? I’m here with you… now. I’ve always been with you; I’ll always be here.”

“No, you aren’t. You… you haven’t been for a long time. We lost that… years ago. I waited and waited but you made it quite clear.” He turned towards Janeway, his anguish-stricken eyes suddenly filled with a vitriolic bitterness that she could taste. “At least she let me love her.”

His hurled accusations pierced her more grievously than the loss of Seven, skewered her heart as surely as a Hirogen knife. How? When? They had always been together, a command team who respected and admired each other. How dare he say that she didn’t love him? His denunciation sobered her shaken spirit; she turned and reeled towards the door. She needed to inform the rest of her crew with the sad news. It was her duty; she was the captain.

From that day on, Chakotay began to fall into the despair that, as surely as any cancer, gnawed away at their friendship, until all that was left was a shell of sorrowful tolerance.

Shortly after their return to Earth, what was left of Chakotay’s spirit returned to the afterlife with his forefathers, taking with him whatever hopes Kathryn Janeway had of reconciliation with her dear friend.

~*~

The episode of the cadet’s inquiry about Seven of Nine had brought back too many memories. Janeway became haunted by these memories, by the events that precipitated the downward spiral of the rest of her years on Voyager. Oh, they made it home all right. Many of the crew were almost sad to have to give up the close community that had formed in those twenty-three years. But she had seen Chakotay wither away, lost in the miasma of memories. Tuvok became more and more irrational as his condition deteriorated. And she became isolated, building an iron skin to cover the wounded woman within.

Not a day had gone by that she heard Chakotay’s damning words echo through her being: “Now I’ve lost both of you… I lost you a long time ago… at least she let me love her.”

After all the years, the tears had ceased every time she thought about him. The hurt, the scars, the damage… they would be with her until she died – and probably long into the hereafter. But the story – and the memories – was ingrained in her innermost being.

_Chakotay, I always loved you. I loved you from the beginning; I loved you in ways that we never imagined. But we both knew that if we continued, we would burn out, leaving our crews with nothing. And we couldn’t do that. I let you love me, once upon a time; and I loved you back with a passion that could have stopped the universe… and it almost did._

~*~

_“Is there really… an ancient legend?” she asked her eyes flooding with the beauty of his words but knowing what he was trying to do._

_“No,” he smiled back at her, his face full of the love he was trying to communicate as he brushed away her tears. “But it made it easier to say.”_

_She reached for his hand; their fingers intertwined over the table that separated them. “You have been there for me, whenever I needed you,” she murmured. “There’s not much I can give you in return.”_

_He nodded his understanding, grasping her hand more firmly, running his thumb over the top of her hand, the heat of his spirit calling out to her, its message refuting his pledge of just moments earlier, a promise vowing his acceptance of her parameters._

_The time for parameters and parables was over, words that sounded right but weren’t. The innocent handhold gave way as he dropped her hand only to grasp her by her shoulders, pulling her over the surface of the table._

_“Chakotay, we can’t,” she whimpered._

_“There’s no one here but us, Kathryn. We can… and we will,” he rasped._

_Her response was lost as he covered her mouth with his, quieting her intended rebuttal with what she craved… what she wanted but would never ask for. His lips – warm, full, comforting – wrapping hers in love and security, full of promises of devotion and assurance._

_Without breaking his hold on her, he guided them to the end of the table, freeing their bodies from its unwelcome intrusion. The piece of furniture seemed to represent the final barrier, the remaining obstacle that had long separated them. With its disappearance, so did every other encumbrance, tangible or not. No more excuses or rationalizations._

_He pulled her towards him, the resolve of his grasp supplying unspoken words. She did not pull away – she could not pull away, the hot magnetism drawing her and holding her to him. He allowed one hand to reach up to her face, gently tracing its outline with two fingers before finding her long hair and combing his fingers through its thick tresses._

_Heat and color rose in her body, coming to rest in her face; she felt her cheeks flush more with each caress. With every new touch, she sensed her resolve slipping from her. This time, her lips sought his, the kiss firm and decisive. Their mouths opened and they savored the sweetness of each other for the first time. Like parched travelers traversing a wide desert, they drank deeply from the nourishment before them, clamoring for more of the soul quenching essence. Thirsty, hungry, unsatisfied._

_His mouth traveled downward, finding the soft flesh of her neck. She raised her head, wanting to feel more of him, availing more of her being to his touch. His lips and tongue devoured the tempting banquet; together they uttered moans of sweet delight. Their bodies clamored for each other with insistent urgency._

_She needed to feel more of him, to taste more of him. She reached down to unfasten the bulky belt holding together his tunic. Her fingers felt clumsy and awkward, unable to function properly. His hand came down to help her, quickly undoing the stubborn clasp; the belt fell to the floor with a muffled thump. His hand grazed her abdomen, sending a sizzling shudder through her body. He reached around her, placing his hand in the small of her back and pushing her into him, allowing her to feel his heat and hardness, imprinting her with the burn of his need. Like a gentle prod, his body urged her backwards, until she rested against the wall. He leaned into her, pinning her against its vertical surface._

_She reached up to the small button that fastened the neck of her gown and loosened it from its confining loop. She slid her hands down the front of the garment, releasing its long front closure in a single defining move. The lavender fabric fell back, exposing a column of pale flesh. The robe separated; his hands continued the job she started. He pulled apart the gown and eased it off her shoulders, allowing gravity to complete the task of pulling it from her body._

_He gasped as he saw her body for the first time – porcelain skin, dotted with delicate freckles. Some softness, now fleshed out with age, but still enticing with voluptuousness and purpose. He cradled her breasts in his hands and bent his head to suckle their fullness, her sweet moans feeding him as well. Her hands found the bottom of his tunic and began urging it upward. He groaned as the unwelcome motion broke his attention, but she managed to get him to wriggle out of it._

_As he continued his actions, her hands roamed across the smooth expanse of his chest, an area broken only by the prickled flesh of his nipples. In time with the rhythm of his movements, she began rubbing them with the palms of her hands, the friction teasing them into hard knots._

_H e released her swollen breasts and backed off, allowing her to bemoan his absence as she leaned against the wall. He reached down and jerked off his soft boots, kicking them behind him. Before they had found a resting place, his hands reached the waistband of his trousers, loosened the fastener and they slid down into the pool of her gown. As he stepped out of their confines, his hands encircled her waist, gripping her firmly._

_The naked heat of his erect member throbbed against the slight swell of her stomach, tapping out its desire and need. She sighed as the warm wetness of her readiness answered in response. Her arms reached up and circled his neck as her back steadied itself against the wall. He reached behind her and cupped the fullness of her buttocks in his hands, gently lifting her as he did so. She clasped first one leg, then the other around the secure trunk of his legs, inching herself up to him._

_The hot tip of his penis honed in to her awaiting opening. With precise motions, he lowered her onto his solid erection; she felt herself swallow and devour him. She edged herself up and down the wall, keeping time with his deep thrusts, wanting more and more of him, hungry after her long denial._

_Their fit was tight; it was right. His breadth filled her as much as his length. Ripples of delight and warmth spread through her body, pleasuring her in ways she had never known before, giving her a sense of intimacy that was unknown. Deeper and harder he plunged into her, carrying her to dizzying heights of ecstasy. When the paroxysms of climax surged within her, she almost lost consciousness. Only when his hot release came did she regain a sense of here and now._

_She lowered her legs as he pulled out of her, his spent member trembling with quivers of aftershock. The mingled fluids of their love crept in slow trickles down their legs. For a moment, they leaned onto each other, attempting to compose themselves. Finally, their spent bodies slid to the floor, forming a huddled mass much like their refuge from the storm two days before. But now they had found that harbor from any storm – they had found each other._

_As energy seeped back into them, they disentangled and rested against the wall. He turned to her glowing face, brushing back the damp hair that clung to it. His eyes, smoky with the aftermath of their actions, turned into a devastating smile. “I guess we’ve found a new command structure, haven’t we?”_

_She gasped for breath and finally found the strength to kiss him in response. “That we have. It seems that some things are going to have to be rearranged in our lives.”_

_“Like furniture first?” he answered._

_“Maybe… later,” she answered, pulling him down to her again._

_For almost four weeks, they spent their time learning wonderful new things about each other, revealing long hidden secrets, desires and needs. They explored two worlds – the planet on which they found themselves and the inner worlds of each other. Their personal logs became words written on their hearts rather than recited into the official documents, feelings and actions and events that no one other than they would ever understand._

_Then came the unexpected message from Tuvok – that a cure for the disease that had exiled them had been found; Voyager was returning for them. Within hours, they had to decide what lay in front of them… what changes needed to be made. As they pulled down their home of two months and packed up supplies and gear, they carefully packed away the last four weeks of their lives. As they traded the comfort of a blue dress and a soft leather vest for the confinement of Starfleet uniforms, so did they replace their newfound intimacy with the structure of duty._

~*~

_But I **did** love you, Chakotay; I loved you with every ounce of being I ever had – I loved you in ways no one else has ever known. _

_How can you say I never let you love me?_

~*~

She was too old for this sort of thing, the Admiral told herself. It would doom her career, negate all she had done in five decades of love and duty. But – if it worked, none of it would matter. Hell, she might not even survive the trip! She chortled to herself – survive? If the project proved successful, she would cease to be, too, as she would be disrupting the time line. A regular damned if you do, damned if you don’t paradox. And it wasn’t as if she would be re-writing history; she’d just be shifting around the details a bit. What was a couple of decades difference in the grand scheme of the universe?

She wanted to approach her project with a deadline of May 11, just two days after the tenth anniversary of the arrival of Voyager back into the Delta Quadrant. Yes, that would be just about right. That gave her five days to put her plan into play, to coordinate all the necessary details. She had many ‘favors’ she could call in, many friends who would acquiesce to her requests with little question, for she had helped them so many times. Some ‘for old time’s sake’, others because of her position and reputation. She didn’t like to think that she would be ‘using’ people, because in the long run, the planned outcome would benefit all of them… the entire quadrant, as a matter of fact.

But – what about the other end? When would be the best place to interrupt the timeline? What point in time would benefit all involved the best? Then… on a personal level… when had things started going wrong? When had their love begun to slip away? When had he felt that she stopped letting him love her?

For a year after their return from New Earth, although their relationship was strained as both of them yearned for the physical touch of the other, they adjusted. Smiles and touches, punctuated with feelings and looks that only they understood, sufficed for a while.

Then came their first encounter with the Borg – and Species 8472. The Northwest Passage and all its horrors. That day when they discovered the destroyed probe, its last message showing a Borg cube bearing down hard, then the Borg cube that suddenly appeared, strafing their hull as it whizzed by. Harry – poor Harry – and her desperate negotiations with the Borg for safe passage. And Seven of Nine. Her thoughts became immobile as she replayed the years, spinning through events and faces and relationships.

_Yes, that was it, wasn’t it? The seminal event, the one that began the cascade of events, was when they allowed her to stay aboard Voyager, that determined woman who refused to be vented from the cargo bay with her fellow collective members. The Borg encounter had brought them Seven of Nine._

Not only had it brought them the beautiful Borg drone, but also in the initial actions to cut her connection to the Borg collective, Janeway had used Chakotay to facilitate the process. Based on his experience with having had severe injuries healed by some former Borg, he knew the advantages – and strengths – of interfacing human with Borg via a neurotransmitter. Using this technique, they gave rebirth to Seven’s humanity. But – what if at this time, something transferred from Seven to Chakotay, setting up a link of some sort that would be between them forever?

A gleam in Admiral Janeway’s eyes signaled her answer. She needed to return… to interrupt time… as they encountered the Borg. They needed to get through Borg space without approaching Species 8472 and she had an idea as to how it could be done… without the Borg, without the Northwest Passage – and without Seven of Nine.

_‘To the journey’, she smiled to herself, remembering the words of the annual toast of their return anniversary celebrations. Yes, to the journey._

Now – to put her plan into action.

~*~

The crucial event in her strategy occurred the day after the day in the classroom. She received a message from Miral Paris, now a Starfleet ensign assigned to Janeway for various tasks. Janeway had sent the young woman to Q’onos to negotiate a deal with a house leader by the name of Korath, whom Janeway was supporting for appointment to the Klingon High Council.

Excitement radiated from the young woman’s face; Janeway didn’t even need to ask whether she had been successful of not.

“So Korath is interested,” she said.

“”Yes,” Miral exclaimed. “But he wouldn’t go into to details. He said he wanted to meet with you in person.”

Janeway nodded back. “Just as I suspected. Tell him that I’ll be in touch with him but that it might be a few days before I can get away.”

“Ay, Admiral,” she gleamed back.

“Oh… and Miral, excellent job. Your parents will be proud of you.”

“Thank you, Admiral.” Miral’s face danced with the same unbridled enthusiasm of her father. She would never make a poker player, Janeway mused.

~*~

The next step in her plan revolved around Reg Barkley. She touched his communicator coordinates and watched his face fill her screen.

“Admiral Janeway – good to see you,” he responded with a confident attitude that still surprised her. “I trust that we’ll see you at the anniversary party this Saturday?”

She groaned inside, not at all looking forward the event that gathered fewer and fewer of their crew together. But ever the ambassador, she smiled her response. “Wouldn’t miss it for the world, Reg; I know that you go to a lot of effort to keep the spirit of Voyager going.”

His head bobbed up and down with glee. “And it wouldn’t be the same without you, Admiral.” He sensed that the pleasantries were out of the way, that she hadn’t contacted him about the party. “Now – what can I do for you today?” he ventured.

“Reg, I need to know if you have been able to make arrangements for that modified shuttlecraft I need for a trip to Q’onos,” she inquired.

Reg’s mask of self-assurance began to weaken with her question – his lips began to twitch and his eye started blinking. “Ye…Yes, Admiral,” he answered, his voice reverting to his nervous stutter. “Th… they asked some questions, but when I explained who this was for, th… they seemed to understand. It’s… it’s waiting for you at the docking yard in Oakland.” He relaxed somewhat as he saw the relief on her face.

“Thanks, Reg; I owe you on this one,” she smiled.

“Admiral, you never owe me anything. You ‘paid’ me back long ago.”

“See you soon,” she responded, as his image faded.

~*~

Saturday’s party came and passed in a fog to her. She politely made her rounds, mouthing words of small talk that she couldn’t remember, telling Tom and B’Elanna that Miral had successfully completed her mission and promising them that their daughter would soon be returning to Earth.

The night was warm and she felt smothered by the people and heavy air in the crowded room. She nibbled on the food, all based on Neelix’s recipes from the Delta Quadrant, but none of it tasted right. Even the vintage champagne soured in her mouth as her body betrayed her external calm and reserve.

Two more days

. ~*~

Before her visits to Tuvok's room and Chakotay’s grave, she contacted Korath, letting him know that she would be leaving Earth the next day.

Korath’s dark face broadened into a smile. “ _Buy’ ngop_ , Admiral; that is good news. We look forward to your arrival. I’m sure that our negations shall prove beneficial for both of us.”

Janeway nodded her ascent to his tooth-rimmed smile. “I am certain of that,” she responded. _More than you’ll ever know – or_ **won’t** _know_ , she thought after closing the comm link.

~*~

Sunday night. Almost everything was ready for her stop at the Oakland shipyards and the trip ahead of her. A small satchel awaited a few last minute items in her bedroom; she glanced at it and then her bed, wondering if she would be able to sleep at all tonight. Sleep had been scarce these past few nights, and even when it did embrace her, it was filled with dreams of specters from her past, all clamoring for her attention. Perhaps her last chore could kill two birds with one stone.

She buzzed her old friend, Voyager’s EMH.

“Captain, always good to see you!” he smiled back at her.

“I hope I’m not contacting you too late,” she answered softly.

“Nonsense! What does time matter to a hologram?” he retorted.

She smiled in relief. “Thank you for understanding. But it’s your wife who might be imposed.”

A gesture of his hand told her otherwise. “She’s married to a doctor; she expects calls at all hours.”

“In that case,” Janeway segued, “could you come over for a little while?”

Concern covered his face. “Are you ill? What is the problem?”

“No, no; I’m fine. I… I just need your opinion about something and I’d like to ask you in person. Besides, I’m leaving for Q’onos tomorrow and perhaps a quick check-up would be in order.”

“I’m on my way,” he answered.

Within minutes of their communication, he buzzed for entry into her apartment.

“I must say, Admiral, I’m curious by your requests. In all the years aboard Voyager, I had to practically drag you to sickbay for routine check-ups, and now you’re calling me for one.” He scanned her even as he spoke. “Hmm. Just as I should have guessed. You are in excellent health, quite an achievement for a human…”

“Of my age,” she finished for him. “I do my best.”

“You said there was something else you wanted to ask me about,” he continued.

She swallowed, knowing that her request would stir up more questions than she could answer.

“Doctor, I understand that you have been working on something called chronexaline, something that will protect bioforms from the effects of tachyon radiation.”

“Yes,” he nodded. “It has proven very effective.”

“I need some,” she stated bluntly. “In fact, I need quite a bit.”

“May I ask why?” he queried.

“Sorry, Doctor; that’s classified. But I need 2,000 milligrams,” she responded.

His eyes grew larger than normal. “That’s quite a lot.”

“And I need it tomorrow,” she continued, giving him her best Janeway look.

He knew better than to push her further. He read the determination in the flames of her eyes. “Very well. You’ll have it by 0900.”

Her death stare faded as she grabbed him in a hug. “You always were the best, Doctor. You have my eternal thanks.”

“Hmm,” he pondered. “I’m sure I can think of something you can help me with.”

She guided him across the room and opened the door, gently urging him on his way. “I’m certain you will, Doctor; you always do.”

As she closed the door behind him, ecstatic with his agreement to procure the experimental drug for her, she realized that she had forgotten to ask him for a sleeping aid. Damn; hopefully warm milk would still do the trick for her…

Next stop – Korath on Q’onos. Then, the Delta Quadrant… and Voyager and events that would change many lives. _But for the better_ , she promised herself.

_May the gods of the universe be with me, because no one else will be when they realize what I’m doing._

~*~

One skill Admiral Janeway mastered during her twenty-three years in the Delta Quadrant was when know when she was being used. Multiple species, from the Kazon to the Borg learned that Kathryn Janeway was a force to be reckoned with. Upon her return, Starfleet learned this, too, frequently the hard way. She could spot duplicity and deceit halfway across the galaxy. As a diplomatic liaison for Starfleet, these skills gave her a great insight into the diverse operative natures of friend and foe alike. The trick was to learn when the tactics were necessary and when they would bring upheaval.

She knew that Korath was using her, but it was time to overturn his one-sided demands. Upon her arrival on Q’onos, Miral Paris greeted her.

“Admiral, I’ll be happy to go with you to meet with Korath,” she offered politely.

Janeway waved her off. “No, Miral; you have done enough already. I can take care of things from here.” She paused briefly and added as a second thought. “And why don’t you go ahead and make arrangements to go back to Earth? I have another trip to make following this one, and there’s no need for you to be delayed any longer.”

Miral’s look was one of puzzlement; she had thought that she and the Admiral would be returning together. “As you wish, Admiral.” She turned to leave. “I guess I don’t need to wish you luck.”

Janeway smiled. “I’m probably going to need a lot more than luck, my dear. You might say a little prayer for me.”

A sentry for Korath opened the heavy door leading into his building; Janeway disappeared into the darkness of the interior.

Forty-five minutes later, the Admiral glistened into materialization aboard her shuttle, beamed up by a prearranged sequence. Within her arms, she clasped a small metallic box containing the last piece in her puzzle – a chronodeflector, her payment for sponsoring Korath’s entrance to the Klingon High Council. At the last minute, he demanded one of the modifications she had had added to her shuttle, a shield emitter infused within her hull plating. She had read him correctly, and when his additional demands took on a more forceful nature, she signaled her ship and disappeared into the miasma of transport beams. There might be a chase, but she was ahead of him. With luck, she would reach her destination before him.

Her destination – her next stop: almost thirty years… in the past.

~*~

Voyager’s senior staff stared in disbelief as Captain Janeway finished her remarks following the discovery of the remnants of their probe, with its dying images recording the rapid approach of a Borg cube. “Borg space fills thousands of solar systems, but we think we know a way around it.” She yielded the floor to Chakotay, who drew their attention to diagrams on the screen before them.

“We’re calling this the Northwest Passage. It’s a meandering corridor that shows no indication of containing any Borg. It’s full of gravitational unknowns, quantum singularities and other fluxes that might make for some rough riding,” he instructed.

“But no Borg,” chimed in Paris.

“No Borg,” Chakotay affirmed.

“Then I say let’s go for it!” Harry said with his usual enthusiasm.

The room became abuzz with jumbled comments.

Janeway signaled for their attention. “People, while the Northwest Passage does offer us a unique opportunity, no doubt we will come into contact with one or two Borg vessels as we approach the area. We must prepare for that preliminary encounter as well.”

The room became silent; Janeway sensed their renewed tension. “However, I have been reviewing Starfleet accounts of previous Borg meetings. These reports all conclude that their vessels have a weak spot – a point of vulnerability. We must hone in on these fatal points on the underbelly of the beast.”

Color began to return to the faces of the crew, but she still could feel their fears. “I know you’re afraid; I would be dishonest with you if I didn’t admit my own uneasiness, too. But they have been defeated before, and we can do it again. We have this knowledge and we have the expertise. All we have to do is get by the ‘gatekeepers’ and into the Northwest Passage.”

B’Elanna cleared her throat and asked nervously, “Captain, why are there no Borg in the passage?”

Janeway moistened her lips, belying her calm demeanor. “We’re not sure. That’s why we have a lot to do to prepare for this expanse. There just might be Borg inside, cloaked and lurking. And we don’t know how long we’ll be inside the space, what we will find or what we will not find. Will there be allies? Will there be enemies? We must prepare for all contingencies. But it’s better than facing the Borg time after time over hundreds of light years.”

Furtive glances passed among the officers sitting around the table. The task seemed daunting and overpowering.

“I know that you’re overwhelmed by the thought of all of this, but I also know that each and every one of you has risen to the task time and again… and this time won’t be any different. We _**can do this**_ if we all work together,” the captain stated with fervor, hoping to renew sparks of courage in all of them. “We will survive. We have good people working with us and all of us have a strong sense of survival. It will take coordination, cooperation and lots of hard work, but we can do it.”

Stirrings of refurbished spirits emerged in the staff around the table. She felt them drawing on her strength, feeding off her passion. She was their leader and had to make it work. _You may call me ‘ma’am’. Mr. Kim – this is one of those crunch times_ , she thought, awaiting their responses.

A question from Tom broke the tense silence. “How long do we have to prepare, Captain?”

She smiled; she had his affirmation. “We have about thirty-six hours to organize everything, Tom. But I have faith in each and every one of you, and I need each of you to be strong in your resolve, to help convince your staffs and the rest of the crew that we can do this.”

Uneasy nods of agreement met her look asking for their support. “We _**can**_ do this,” she repeated emphatically. “Now – let’s get busy!”

They had their orders; now it was time to put them into action.

~*~

Time zipped from afternoon into evening into night; the crew ran around in their busyness as if it were alpha shift—no sleep for them until all preparations were made. Meals were missed, holodeck dates cancelled, as they fed off adrenalin, preparing to outwit the Borg – and for their journey through the unknowns of the Northwest Passage.

~*~

Janeway had her own preparations to make. She had been in her ready room most of the day, again studying the logs of other Starfleet captains who had had very personal acquaintances with the Borg: Picard, Asimov, K’Trak. None of them had remained unscarred, but they survived. She wanted Voyager to do more than just survive.

A buzz at her door interrupted her reveries.

“Come,” she answered wearily, allowing the doors to open.

Fatigue weighed down Chakotay’s movements as he came in. “According to my calculations, neither of us has eaten since last night. Care to join me for a late dinner?”

Janeway brushed aside his question. “Can’t; too much to do.”

“You’re not going to be much help to us if you’re exhausted, Kathryn. Come on – twenty minutes at the most.”

She slowly got up from her chair, stretching out kinks from her tensed muscles. “Maybe you’re right.” She continued her movement, wandering over to the long window overlooking the starlit space. “I’ve always been one to over-study a subject,” she chuckled. “And it didn’t always work. Don’t want to fall into that trap here.”

Chakotay watched her, sensing her great burden, trying to decide how he could help. He walked up the upper level in the room, taking a stance behind her, attempting to look into her thoughts as well as the emptiness outside.

She turned to him, her eyes locking onto his. “This day was inevitable; we all knew it. We are doing our best to prepare for it. But at what point is the risk too great? When is discretion the better part of valor? When is it better to consider calling it a day and retreat back to friendly territory? Could the crew accept living out the rest of their lives in the Delta Quadrant?”

She paced down the line of windows, running a finger along the streaking stars. “I’ve been reading accounts of my comrades in arms in all these reports – but the truth is… I’m alone.”

Chakotay followed in her wake. His hands reached out for her shoulders, as if trying to meld his strength with hers. “If that moment comes, we’ll face it together. And we’ll make the right decision. You are not alone, Kathryn.”

His words drained the uncertainty from her; she immediately felt calm and confident. She turned towards him, her radiant smile conveying her relief. “Three years ago I didn’t even know your name; now I can’t imagine a day without you,” she whispered huskily. She leaned her cheek against his chest, and became further assured by the steady rhythm of his heartbeat, warmed by the security of his devotion.

His hands slipped from her shoulders; he framed her shining face between them. “Together, Kathryn,” he murmured.

Then he kissed her. Firmly, decisively and completely.

When they dared to release each other, she smiled back at him. “Commander, I think I’ll take you up on that dinner offer. Suddenly, I feel very weak.”

He wrapped his arm around her, holding her close. He led her to the door, his smile lighting the way. “Well, we certainly can’t have our captain passing out, can we?”

~*~

Sleep wouldn’t come; she had tried all her known tricks. But then, what commanding officer hadn’t spent a sleepless night before a big battle? They had done everything they could think of; her crew seemed prepared and ready. She had made her rounds, congratulating them on their efforts and encouraging them when she saw doubt, before a very late retirement to her quarters.

But she herself did have doubt, for everything was ultimately her responsibility – hers and hers alone. She halted her thoughts. _No, she wasn’t alone; after all, he said they would face everything together._

She tossed back the bed coverings and threw on her robe. It was quite likely that he was having difficulty in sleeping, too. Maybe a cup of tea and some comradely words would assure her that she had done everything she could. As she went to the replicator to call up some tea, she hit her comm badge. “Chakotay…”

“I’m here, Captain,” he answered promptly and alert, obviously not asleep. “Is there a problem?”

“It’s just me,” she chuckled back in response. “Can’t sleep; how about you?”

She could hear his nervous smile in his words. “Same here. Guess it’s always like this… waiting through the calm before the storm.”

“How about joining me for some tea?” she asked. “Maybe something warm will put each of us at ease.”

“Sounds great,” he answered. “I’m on my way.”

His buzz at her door came only seconds after the communication. Had he been right outside her door, she wondered, smiling. “Come,” she answered while calling up another cup of tea.

The doors opened and he entered softly. He wasn’t in nightclothes, but neither was he in uniform. He wore a soft tunic over his favorite loose pants.

“Hmm; I see you couldn’t sleep,” she said, walking over to him and offering him a mug of tea.

“Never can, before something big,” he answered. “I’m sure there are many aboard doing the same thing.”

“Let’s hear it for adrenalin,” she said.

“Good ole flight or fight stuff,” he countered. “The drug of survival.”

She sighed and turned towards the window. “We _**are**_ doing the right thing, aren’t we, Chakotay? We do have a chance, don’t we?”

He put the mug down on the table by her sofa and walked behind her. “We’re prepared; that’s a major part of any battle.” He put his hands on her shoulders and drew her back to him.

She reached up, placing her hand over his, giving his fingers a squeeze. “I’m glad you’re here with me. Command loneliness is one thing when you are in familiar territory. But this unknown, uncharted area – well, it’s good to have an ally with whom you can share your thoughts.”

He rested his chin on the top of her head. “I told you, Kathryn – you are not alone.” He paused and took a deep breath.

She felt him drinking in her scent, drawing strength from her as much as she was from him. She shivered in spite of the warmth that radiated from his body.

“Are you cold?” he asked, rubbing her arms.

She shook her head equivocally. “No… no, not really. I guess I’m just… scared.”

“The Borg will do that,” he said, his words getting lost in her hair.

She turned to face him. “It’s not really the Borg that frighten me right now.” Her eyes drilled into him, unspoken words hanging heavily, their meaning implicit.

“It frightens me, too,” he answered. “It’s been awhile…”

“And we said that we would never…” she whispered.

“But we need to; we need each other,” he said, lowering his head and finding her warm lips, merging his fears with hers, searching for relief in her response.

She melted into his arms – she needed him. She needed his strength and comfort; she needed his commitment and fidelity; she needed the feel of him.

There was no urgency in their touch, no desperate grappling. This time each movement became deliberate, assuring, life affirming; an act of worship, a gesture of sacrifice.

They moved to her bedroom and slowly undressed each other, allowing time to absorb every nuance of their bodies and reactions. Anxiety and fear seeped from them, allowing them to delight in the small pleasures of every touch, each caress, finding consolation in the blending of their bodies. When the time of communion came, he entered her with love and joy. Together, they soared high among the stars, letting the cosmos clear away any thoughts of things to come.

When she awoke, he was gone. But his presence remained, buried inside her soul.

~*~

Janeway made one last round through the ship to confirm their preparations; they were as ready as they ever would be. Her arrival on the bridge was just in time for Harry Kim’s discovery. The turbolift doors opened and she saw the mixture of excitement and anxiety in the young man’s eyes.

“Captain, I’ve found them. I’ve identified Borg tachyon traces less than one light year away.”

“Estimated time of arrival?” she asked, swinging into her chair.

Harry looked at his readings. “At our current speed, four hours and twenty minutes.” His eyes did a double take before he looked up again, this time the previous excitement replaced by raw fear. “And, Captain – I identify at least thirty-three Borg cubes.”

Janeway took in a deep breath. She had anticipated more than one cube – but thirty-three? They had a total of twelve modified photon torpedoes, enough to get them through a skirmish with a half-dozen cubes initially – but almost _**three**_ dozen? The battle would be over before it had begun.

She looked over at Chakotay, his surprise as evident as hers. “Chakotay – my ready room.”

She knew the eyes of all on the bridge followed them as they disappeared behind the closing doors of the captain’s inner sanctum.

“Your thoughts on this new development?” she asked as soon as they were alone. “It seems as if we’re facing a for-real _Kobayashi Maru_.”

“There are always options, Kathryn,” he said.

“Really? And what options do we have?” she asked, her voice tight with concern.

“We could retreat, go back… try to find another approach to the Northwest Passage…”

“Not an option,” she countered. “Too many unknowns.”

“Better to face the unknown than face certain death. We’ve been facing the unknown for three years and so far, we’ve fared pretty well.”

She began pacing, her nervous energy stoked and burning. “So what other options do we have? Turn back in a full retreat?”

Chakotay walked over to her, calming her frenetic movement, placing his hands on her shoulders to hold her in place, giving her a small shake as if to bring her back to the moment. “Yes; we could turn around, reassess alternatives and start over again.”

She forcefully broke his grasp and began her pacing again. “Turn back – and admit defeat? Like putting our tail between our legs and running off to lick our wounds?”

He followed in her footsteps, his own temper rising. “It’s not defeat, Kathryn – it’s survival! There’s plenty of Delta Quadrant left to explore, and we may yet find a way home.”

She stopped abruptly and turned to him, her eyes ablaze with a sudden thought. “Or – we could bargain with the Borg. Negotiate for safe passage.”

Chakotay’s body froze with her words. “Negotiate? With the Borg? With what? Whatever they need, they just assimilate – it’s their nature, Kathryn!”

Her eyes gleamed with delight as the plan formulated. “We don’t really have to have anything, Chakotay – just something to let them think we do!”

“And that is…” he prompted.

She began wearing the path in the carpet again. “You remember that Borg drone corpse we found earlier – the one the Doctor has been examining?”

“Yes…”

Janeway’s thoughts were racing. “Well, he extracted micro-nanoprobes from the drone and has been working on modifications that, if injected into anyone other than a Borg, would offer a form of immunity to a Borg assimilation probe.” She looked at Chakotay, her face full of heated excitement. “We could offer this information to them – allow them to gain the information of a defense against them. But we promise the information only after they let us through their space.”

He shook his head vehemently. “No; no – the whole idea too risky. Besides, what would prevent them from just taking the information… and then assimilating all of us?”

With a look of being one step ahead of him, she continued. “We download all the information into the doctor’s matrix. Then, at first threat, we wipe out his program.”

Chakotay let out a nervous laugh. “Oh, yeah; I’m sure the Doctor would agree to this!” An idea struck him. “Why not have the doctor produce enough of the nanoprobes to inoculate all of us… to prevent the Borg from assimilating us?”

“There’s not enough time. It’s taken him weeks to produce enough for only one person.” She continued with assurance. “But we _**can**_ use the idea like a carrot on a stick.”

“And how do you propose presenting this idea to our friendly neighborhood Borg?” he queried.

“I take it to them. I transfer to the lead cube and negotiate in person.”

“ _ **What**_?” Chakotay’s voice took on a timbre that could probably be heard through the walls. “Kathryn – that is insane; you can’t even begin to think that you…”

“I’m not willing to risk anyone else, Chakotay,” she stated firmly. “Besides, the doctor can use me as a guinea pig for the protecting nanoprobes; I can be the show-and-tell example for the Borg.”

The first officer stumbled back a couple of paces, totally caught off-guard by such an outrageous proposal. “You… you can’t. It’s suicide – first for you and then the rest of us. You don’t even know if the nanoprobe theory will work! How can you even think this?” The timbre of his voice shook with outrage. “Kathryn… sometimes you don’t know when to step back. I won’t let you do it!”

Her temper was rising, too; her mood seething. He had found a weak spot in her armor. “ _ **You**_ won’t let me do it? Need I remind you, _**Commander**_ , that _**I**_ am the captain of this ship? I am fully aware of the consequences this might bring.”

He managed to walk over to her and grab her arm, his voice shaking with emotion. “What about last night? Kathryn – we can’t just discover each other again, only to throw it all away with this insanity!”

Her eyes hardened into cold blue steel. “Last night was wrong, Chakotay; I know that and you should, too. We cannot let our personal lives merge with our professional responsibilities. Last night did not happen – do you understand? It did not! We must forget it and get on with the mission at hand.” She jerked her arm away, glaring at him.

“But it _**did**_ happen. It meant something to me, and I thought it did for you, too.” His voice cried out, weighted with plaintive desolation.

Janeway tried to regain some composure. “Chakotay, Voyager will never survive if you and I continue to give in to our animal instincts.”

“Animal instincts,” he cried out. “Is that what you call it? Why can’t you see it for what it is – love! Is it so wrong to love each other – to need and care for each other?”

She remained resolute. “Not at the expense of nearly a hundred and fifty other people! Chakotay, they are our responsibility, and we must honor that duty and commitment first and foremost.”

Her words stung him into numbed immobility.

She shook her head, trying to rid herself of the memories of the previous night, of his words just now. They stood in silence, assessing each other before the next move… her next words. “Do you trust me, Chakotay?” she asked, barely in a whisper.

“That isn’t the issue here,” he retorted.

“Oh, but it is,” she continued. “Only yesterday you said that we would face this together – that you would be my side.”

Chakotay meant his response as a statement but it came out more like a plea. “But I still have to tell you what I believe; I’m no good to you if I don’t do that!”

She walked to her desk and leaned back against its edge, her stance casual but resolved. “I appreciate you insights, but the time for debate is over. I’ve made my decision. Now… do I have your support?” She read his thoughts, knew that images of their passion during the night flooded his consciousness. But that was then; today, they had to save Voyager.

His shoulders sagged in defeat. His answer came out cold and impersonal. “You’re the captain; I’m the first officer. I’ll follow your orders, but that doesn’t change my mind that you’re making a fatal mistake.”

Janeway cringed at his lack of feeling; it was as if all of their words and actions of the past twenty-four hours were nonexistent. Her response was no more than a whisper. “Then I guess I’m alone after all.”

He made no response but just stood there, the miserable picture of a man who had lost his soul.

“Dismissed,” she said impersonally.

He looked at her then turned and left without another word.

She went over to her long window and stared out into the void.

~*~

The computer on Admiral Janeway’s shuttle startled her in the silence. “ _Approaching designated coordinates_.”

She stopped the small craft, checking her instruments and monitors. It was almost time; the rift would be showing up soon. A few final adjustments and she would be ready.

“ _Warning – vessels approaching, Vector 132, mark five_ ,” the computer intoned.

Janeway checked her scanners – two Klingon ships were following her. “Damn – and I’m so close,” she muttered to no one in particular.

With one eye on her aft scanners and her ‘guests’ and the other on the fore sensors, hoping for an indication of the rift she was honing in on, she called out, “Deploy armor!”

“ _Unable to comply; Ablative generator is off-line_ ,” the computer droned.

The older woman moved with a much younger agility, whispering words like a mantra: _Just give me two more minutes, that’s all… two more minutes_!”

“ _Incoming vessels 20,000 kilometers away,_ ” the computer reported as Janeway began the countdown sequence of the chronodeflector.

The seconds clicked away.

“ _Vessels 10,000 kilometers and closing…_ ”

She could now see the rift, its aperture growing bigger and wider.

A sudden explosion; she fell off balance as the ship rocked – the Klingon ships were within firing range. She whispered a little prayer. _Twenty seconds more… seventeen, sixteen…_ ”

Another blast, another jolt, this one knocked her off her feet. The small chamber sizzled with multiple interior explosions; smoke filled the enclosure. Coughing, her eyes watering, she scrambled to an upright position. _Fifteen, fourteen_ …

“ _Structural integrity failing_ …” said stated the computer.

“Computer, activate the tachyon pulse and direct it to these spatial and temporal coordinates,” instructed Janeway, oblivious to the warning.

She was entering the rift.

~*~

Captain Janeway’s moments of reflection didn’t last long. Tuvok’s voice interrupted her thoughts. “Captain, you are needed on the bridge. There is… a new development.”

_What now? Were the Borg already in sight_?

She flew onto the bridge. “Mr. Tuvok, report.”

“We have discovered a break in the continuum,” the tactical officer reported.

“Any idea what it is?”

“Judging from the tachyon emissions, it appears to be some sort of temporal rift.”

She swung into her chair, pulling her monitor in front of her. “Any idea how it’s being generated?”

“We are attempting to determine its source,” he responded.

Harry’s voice entered the fray. “Captain! I’m detecting weapons fire!”

Chakotay jumped at the ensign’s words. “Weapons fire? Is it Borg?”

Harry’s voice filled with incredulous. “N… No, sir – it seems to be…” He looked up, his eyes amazed. “It appears to be… Klingon!”

Captain shook her head. “Red alert!” she called out, jumping out of her chair and running towards the tactical station.

The rift now appeared as a gaping maw in front of them. Waves of color changes indicated a wild disturbance within its space.

By the time Janeway reached the upper part of the bridge, Tuvok announced, “There’s a vessel coming through the rift.”

“Klingon?” she asked.

“No, it is… Federation.” Even the Vulcan’s face appeared surprised.

“We’re being hailed!” Kim interjected.

“Onscreen,” the captain ordered.

A collective gasp went up from everyone on the bridge as the view screen focused on… Kathryn Janeway. Older, frailer, but it certainly looked like her. The woman was obviously in a state of distress, with smoke and sparks surrounding her.

“Recalibrate your deflector to emit an anti-tachyon pulse,” she ordered. “Seal that rift.”

“Pardon me, but I don’t think we’ve met,” Captain Janeway calmly responded.

“Captain, in case you haven’t noticed, I outrank you. There are two Klingon vessels coming through firing at me and my vessel is about to disintegrate. You must close the rift _**now**_.”

Captain Janeway knew her own fury when she saw and heard it. She turned to Tuvok. “You heard the Admiral; seal the rift.”

Tuvok quickly released the torpedo to the indicated target area. The rift disappeared, taking with it the pursuing Klingon ships.

“Now beam her aboard,” ordered Captain Janeway. “Let’s find out what this is all about.” She turned to Tuvok then nodded frostily to Chakotay. “Mr. Tuvok, Commander Chakotay – you're with me - to the transporter room.”

The trio barely made it to the transport site before the Admiral appeared on the platform. Disheveled, shaken but very much in command, she smiled at them.

In shock herself, Captain Janeway managed to greet their guest. “Welcome aboard,” she said.

Tuvok helped the older woman off the platform. The Admiral brushed off her uniform and smoothed her hair. “It’s good to be back,” she smiled at everyone. “And I know you want to know why I am here.”

“That would be a start,” responded Captain Janeway. “Let’s go to my ready room.”

~*~

“I know that you have many questions,” the Admiral said as the doors closed. “I hope to be able to answer them – and even more.”

The captain pulled out a chair for her. “First – I need proof that you are who we think you are,” she stated matter-of-factly.

“Of course,” agreed the admiral. “ You wouldn’t be doing your job… you wouldn’t be _**me**_ … unless you checked. I’m sure the good doctor can quell any disbelief with a few simple tests. In fact, I insist upon it”, she stated emphatically.

“I’ll contact him momentarily,” the captain confirmed. She looked at her counterpart and saw herself look back from the mirror, with a few more decades in the face.

The admiral smiled. “Yes, I really am ‘you’… from the Terran year 2404.”

“You were in a Federation shuttle,” Captain Janeway said. “From… from Earth? We made it back?”

The admiral nodded. “Indeed we did. However, it took us twenty-three years to make the trip – with the loss of many lives… and other things.” Her tone became less ebullient.

Shock washed over Captain Janeway’s face. “Twenty-three years… but you made it; you survived. You even made it past the Borg!”

The admiral’s face suddenly looked her age. “My dear captain, that’s why I’m here – I’m going to help you destroy the Borg _**and**_ get home.”

The captain shook her head incredulously. “No, no; that can’t be right. We can’t do that – it would be in direct violation of the temporal directive. We could be shifting the focus of history…”

The older woman reached out and patted the captain’s arm. “Not necessarily. That’s what I want to talk to you about – and if my calculations are right, we don’t have much time.”

Fear ripped through the captain as she realized how close they were. “You’re right about that. We figure we have less than three hours before we meet up.”

Admiral Janeway rose wearily. “But you still don’t believe me, do you? Let’s get to the doctor and have him confirm my identity. While we’re there, have your people examine my shuttle. And tell them to look closely at the weapons systems and armor technology. After that, I’ll tell you my plan.”

“It better be a good one and one we can adapt immediately,” said the captain as the two women headed for the door.

“Noted. But I’ve come prepared and it _**will**_ work,” asserted the admiral. “I know the Borg – and exactly how we can stop them.”

~*~

Voyager’s EMH shook his head in disbelief as he looked at the two side-by-side brain scan images. “Captain, I cannot find a single thing different in these two scans – other than accounting for age, I’m finding the same results as I got from your DNA analyses.” He turned and looked at the twin-like figures who awaited his definitive diagnosis. “She is you… or, you are she.” He shook his head again “We indeed seem to have two Kathryn Janeways.”

The admiral smiled smugly at her younger self. “Now do you believe me?”

The look of the captain’s face indicated that she still had some doubt. “But why? Why are you here now?”

The admiral gave a quick wink and nodded to the doctor while leading the younger woman towards the doorway. “Thank you for your time and services, Doctor. You have been a tremendous help as usual.” The doors of sickbay closed behind them.

“We have to talk,” the admiral said.

The captain looked at her and said dryly, “That’s an understatement!”

A smile crept across the admiral’s face. “Remember – I’m you; I know exactly what you’re thinking!” She touched the younger Janeway’s shoulder. “Three years ago, you had the chance to use the Caretaker’s array to get Voyager home. Instead, you destroyed it.”

The captain bristled. “I did what I thought was right.”

“Perhaps it was right, perhaps not. You did save the lives of strangers, but you put them ahead of your crew.”

Captain Janeway shook free of her older self’s touch, repeating her affirmation. “I did what I knew was right.”

But the admiral wouldn’t let her get away with her simplistic justification. “You can’t make the same mistake again. I know you have a plan for facing off with the Borg, but there is too much danger with it. I have some ideas that will help you with other ways – technology, structural refinements…and a way home.”

“At the risk of disrupting the temporal directive? No, Admiral; I just can’t do it. Even if it takes us a while longer to complete our voyage, we will do it. After all, you got them home – so can I.”

The admiral sighed, realizing that the captain needed further prompting to see her point of view. “Captain, I know that I cannot… must not reveal the future to you, but I do want you to know that unless you acquiesce to my proposal, members of your crew will suffer… and yes, die… because of the paths you chose. Because of your decision to prolong the journey, preventable illness and injury will consume those nearest to you on this ship.”

The captain stopped, taking in the impact of the admiral’s words. “Preventable? You mean I knew about this and didn’t take the chance to get back to avert the problems?”

The admiral smiled and nodded, knowing that she had caught the younger woman’s interest, touched that raw place that would incite action. “Yes. And… “ She hesitated. _Should she – **dare** she—mention Chakotay and Seven of Nine_? As the captain had not encountered the Borg woman yet, any recounting of this part of her saga would prove too confusing… and would definitely be breaching the temporal directive. “There is… something else that would affect you personally. It will destroy one of your dearest friends and ultimately eat away at you, destroying you long before you die. Remember – I am you; I have lived through it… endured the agony and pain.”

Captain Janeway looked at the admiral, her body suddenly stunned with shock, her eyes still harboring unanswered questions. But behind it all, there was the need to alleviate pain and suffering for her crew… for her friends. She had put them through so much already and the Borg were mere hours ahead of them. How much more could they take? How much more was she willing to make them endure?

It was time for the admiral’s defining question. “I’m offering you a chance to get them home safely… today! Are you willing to walk away from that?”

“Today?” Captain Janeway asked, her head jerking in surprise. “Did you say _**today**_?” The older woman smiled. She had found the right bait, and it was now the hook was firmly implanted. “Today,” she whispered, her eyes gleaming.

Deep in thought, Captain Janeway began walking again, her pace brisk and firm. She stared straight ahead, her eyes peering into the unknown… past the present, into a safe and secure future.

They reached the turbolift. As the doors opened, Captain Janeway hit her comm badge. “All senior personnel, meet in my ready room in ten minutes. I repeat, ten minutes.”

As the doors closed, the admiral smiled with satisfaction. “I knew that we could come to the logical conclusion. Now – let’s talk details.”

~*~

Furtive glances flew among the assembled staff around the captain’s ready room table. Captain Janeway had just informed them that she was satisfied that the older version of herself was indeed just that – that the doctor’s analyses confirmed it, and more importantly, the admiral knew enough about her personally to convince her of the reality of the situation.

She rose from her chair, but held onto the edge of the table as she continued the incredible unfolding of events. “The admiral has persuaded me to let her explain some options with our approaching confrontation with the Borg… and how to get home.”

A collective gasp sprung from the entire group. Even Tuvok showed surprise, his eyebrow almost flying off his deep forehead. Murmurs flooded the room, as everyone exploded with questions.

“People… please,” the captain urged, attempting to gather their focus to the subject at hand. “I’d like the admiral continue, to outline her plan. We will entertain your questions, but remember – time is of the essence. Listen, digest… and then we have work to do.”

Admiral Janeway stood up as her younger self returned to her seat. They exchanged glances, reassuring each other of their agreement of the plan.

The older woman smiled at her rapt audience. “I know all of this seems impossible to you.” She waited for the resurging murmurs to quiet. “But, with cooperation and skillful execution, these events can indeed happen.” She looked at the ship’s tactical officer. “Mr. Tuvok, have you examined my shuttlecraft?”

“We have, Admiral. And we have noted the modifications in its hull plating and weapons systems. Most interesting… and feasible.”

“I’m glad you agree.” She handed padds to him, Chakotay, Kim and Torres. “All the information is here as to how you can modify Voyager’s systems to equal if not surpass those on my shuttle. With organization, your staffs should be able to complete the adaptations in two hours. I know that’s cutting it close, but you can do it – I know what all of you can accomplish when faced with such a task.”

The four officers took the padds and began perusing the information, nodding as they read. She gave them a few minutes to digest the introductory information before continuing.

“Now I’d like to tell you about what lies ahead – why this particular encounter with the Borg, at this particular part of space is so important… and how it can get us home.” She began a slow pace, starting to circumvent the table, wanting to get close to each person there, needing to let them know with her touch how important it was to all of them.

“With this encounter, we will be in an area of space containing a transwarp hub. There are six of these hubs in the galaxy, each one constructed and inhabited by the Borg, each one containing hundreds of connecting conduits. I believe Harry said he noted thirty-three Borg cubes ahead; there are more than that. In fact, there are thousands.” Her hand was on the young man’s shoulder as she spoke and she felt the sudden apprehension in his body. She squeezed his shoulder gently, reassuring him.

Her comment reinitiated the murmurs and fears within the group, but she continued. “This seems like overwhelming odds – a formidable scenario indeed – but this very structure can be used to our advantage… and to their determent.”

She had moved into position behind Tom Paris. “Each of these conduits leads into one of the four quadrants of our galaxy, giving the Borg a portal of access. Within the hub are many such channels leading to the Alpha Quadrant. I mentioned that these hubs are called transwarp – they are just that, for, by entering one of these connecting passageways, you can exceed any know warp speed; you literally are making time disappear.” She stopped speaking, looking around to see if they grasped the concept. Not even the sound of her echo could be heard.

Tom turned his head around towards her. “So… we know that there’s a way home, but how do we find it?”

“Through this,” she said, handing him still another padd. “This gives you all course headings you will need to get us there, Tom. The location isn’t too far from where we will enter the hub.”

B’Elanna was next in the seated circle. She looked from the admiral to Tom to the admiral again. “But there’s the Borg,” the young woman stammered. “If we have hundreds of conduits and thousands of Borg, how do we get by them? It isn’t as if we just knock on their door and say ‘Hello, there! I’m passing through your neighborhood and oh – by the way – do you mind if I walk across your grass?’ I don’t think they’re that friendly.”

The admiral nodded her understanding while walking to her next stop, behind Tuvok. “A logical question, Lt. Torres. But this is where the adaptation of our weapons to transphasic torpedoes comes in. There are six positions within the hub that are crucial to its entire structure. If these foci are destroyed, the entire structure will collapse on itself and be destroyed, including all the Borg cubes.”

“An excellent plan,” intoned Tuvok. “But how can we escape a similar fate? Will not our conduit be destroyed?”

“We will have ten seconds to make the trip. That is why are timing is so important,” the admiral answered, again looking at Tom, mentally encouraging him with her faith in his abilities. “But it can be done, particularly with a… diversion.”

She stood in the area between Tuvok and Chakotay. The first officer turned towards her at this revelation, afraid he knew already what the diversion was to be. Her eyes, bright with anticipation, read his thoughts. She met his panicked gaze.

“Yes, a diversion. One thing that the doctor missed in his examination of me was a microscopic implant in my arm.” She held out her arm, but nothing was detectable from the surface. “In my arm is chip that is a form of a reverse homing device, something that will lure the head Borg cube to us. This cube will initiate contact and we will offer them something – something that will allow them to subdue one of the more resilient species they have attempted to assimilate.”

B’Elanna erupted. “We’re going to _**help**_ the Borg? Not if I have anything to do with it!” Tom grabbed her to keep her from reaching across the table for the admiral.

“No, we are not going to aid them in the least. We are not going to give the information; they will be destroyed before they get it.”

“And what’s going to keep them from assimilating us first?” asked Kim, trying to hide his increasing panic.

“I am,” said the admiral. “After initial contact, I am going over to the Borg cube to ‘talk’ with them. I will be the diversion.”

Captain Janeway jumped up, her face contorted with surprise. “With all due respect, Admiral – _**I**_ am the one who is going to do this; that was our plan!”

“And I’ve decided differently. I outrank you, Captain – do I have to remind you again? This is your ship… your crew. You will stay here and coordinate all their efforts.”

It was Chakotay’s turn to question the decision; it was his duty as first officer. First it was the captain, and now the admiral. “You can’t do this, Admiral; you’re risking your life. You’ll be assimilated the minute you step onto that cube!”

She patted his shoulder. “I understand your position and concern, Commander. But even as we speak, the doctor is preparing a substance that will prevent my assimilation.”

“I know all about his nanoprobe concoction,” Chakotay fumed. “But we don’t know if it will work – nor do we have the time to prove its efficacy.”

“It’s a risk I’m willing to take.”

“And I can’t let you do this,” Captain Janeway spluttered.

The admiral remained calm and resolute. “Captain, I know the Borg – I know how they will react. My plan… my decision.”

“But…” the younger woman began.

“My decision is made, Captain. You have your job to do, and I have mine.” She felt Chakotay’s body relax under her hand, heard his silent sigh of relief. “Besides – Mr. Kim has the coordinates of where I’ll be included with the information in his padd. You can beam me back at the last moment before we execute the implosion of the hub and we make our getaway.”

The eyes of the two Janeways met and locked. Unspoken words passed between them but the younger woman knew that she had met her match. After all, Admiral Janeway had twenty-six years experience on her… and she was… her!

Admiral Janeway stood between her counterpart and Chakotay, a hand on a shoulder of each of them. “We made it once in the future… and we will do it again.”

~*~

The admiral’s instructions for ship modifications were thorough and explicit. Engineering and tactical teams swept into action following her instructions. Within the allotted two hours, all was in readiness. Admiral and Captain Janeway made a last patrol of the ship, more than satisfied with the crew’s work.

The women had barely made it back to the bridge when Harry announced, “Captain… Admiral… long-range sensors are picking up the tritanium signature of the Borg. Estimated time to encounter – twelve minutes, fifteen seconds.”

“Hold her steady, Mr. Paris,” the captain instructed her helmsman. She turned to her older counterpart. “Admiral, you have the conn; I’ll be in my ready room.”

The admiral smiled at her. “Have a cup of coffee for me, Captain.”

The younger woman smiled at her and nodded, knowing the full message behind her words. She entered her private room, leaving the fate of her ship, crew – and life – in the hands of Admiral Kathryn Janeway.

~*~

The Borg cube loomed large and ominous in front of them, the eerie green lighting of its interior seeping out from windowed apertures in the cube’s hull. A beam of the same color began an interior scan of Voyager.

“Think pleasant thoughts,” the Admiral said as it passed through the decks.

The booming multi-tonal voice of the Borg invaded Voyager’s communication system. “We are the Borg. Prepare to be boarded. Existence as you know it is over; your biological and technological distinctiveness will be added to our own. Resistance is futile.”

The admiral stood up and walked off the command level, taking her place behind Tom Paris and the view screen. Her stature became straight and confident. “I am Admiral Kathryn Janeway and I have some information for you regarding the existence and survival of your collective.”

“We will assimilate the information from you.”

“You can’t,” she answered calmly. “The information is elsewhere.”

“You will tell us where it is,” came a delayed response.

“I will,” she answered. “After you have given us safe transport through your space.”

“The Borg do not negotiate; they assimilate.”

“You have a member of your collective aboard your vessel, a single entity who has within her capabilities the ability to discuss this with me,” Janeway said.

Another unbearably long moment passed as they processed her request, but finally the answer came. “You are correct. We do have that ability. You may contact that function of our matrix aboard this part of the collective.”

The admiral let out a sigh; they had swallowed the bait. “I understand. Please send us the coordinates to which I am to go. It will take me a few minutes to get to my transport facility to make the transfer.”

“Coordinates transmitted. If you do not appear in five of your minutes, we will transport you and you and your ship will be assimilated.” The screen went blank.

The admiral hit her comm badge. “Captain, we have less than five minutes to act. Let’s get going.”

“Admiral… “ Chakotay called out to her as the captain exited her ready room and they headed for the turbolift.

“You don’t need to say it, Chakotay; I know,” she said to him. “Much more than you will ever know.”

The doors of the turbolift closed, leaving the commander wondering at her words.

~*~

The two Janeways walked quickly towards the transporter room for the crucial step to be put into play.

They stopped outside of the doors of the room; the captain pulled a filled hypospray from her tunic. As she raised the instrument and aligned it against the older woman’s neck, she hesitated. “Are you certain that this is what you want to do?” Her voice quivered, filled with emotion.

The admiral nodded her answer. “I’ve never been more certain in my life. This is the right thing to do, trust me.”

Captain Janeway inhaled sharply and depressed the plunger, saying a silent prayer as its contents hissed into the admiral’s body. Her hand shook as she backed off. “It’s done; you’re ready.”

The admiral turned and took the surprised younger woman into her embrace, hoping that the captain would absorb the strength and resolve from her years and experience. “You will be fine. You’ll make it home, with your ship and crew intact.” As she pulled away, she halted the opening doors, leaned into her younger self and murmured. “Kathryn – don’t be so hard on yourself; it’s not worth it in the long run. Don’t let Starfleet consume you and leave you as an empty hull, with nothing but regrets to look back upon.” She smiled, her eyes filling with tears. “Let him love you. I lost him twice, but you don’t have to.”

She released her hold and the doors opened. They entered and Ensign Kraus, at the instrument panel, gave them a quizzical look. Admiral Janeway’s face glowed with a peaceful smile as she took her place on the transport pad, while the captain’s expression had frozen in a state of disbelieving shock.

“Energize,” commanded the admiral.

Her form disappeared in a curtain of disrupted energy.

~*~

Admiral Janeway materialized in the middle of a Borg alcove, alive with activity. Several drones shuffled around her in their zombie-like state, intent on performing their particular duties.

The older woman stood almost motionless, waiting for acknowledgement of her presence. Her ears pricked at a noise from behind a manifold to her left and behind her – motions too irregular and unsynchronized to be just another drone.

A long shadow reached out from the darkness, outlined with the green reflections of the framework. Like multiple spotlights, the eerie color ushered in the figure that cast the shadow. Janeway started to speak but froze when she saw the form emerge.

“You are Admiral Janeway,” the tall Borg stated flatly.

“I am,” Janeway answered. “And you are…” But she knew the answer before the drone began speaking. Tall, blonde, female…

“I am Seven of Nine, tertiary adjunct to unimatrix 01. I have been designated to speak with you for the collective.”

_No – this wasn’t the way it was supposed to be! I calculated it perfectly; I was supposed to meet the Borg queen, not Seven of Nine!_ The admiral’s heart raced, her palms became clammy with sweat. _I… I can’t go ahead with the plan now; what should I do? Calm… remain calm_.

Janeway took a quick breath. “Where is your queen? I thought I was to meet with your queen.”

“I have been designated to speak for her. My matrix is being programmed so that I, too, will become a queen of the Borg,” the young drone intoned. “You will state your request.”

Shock further hit Janeway, the force of this revelation almost knocking her off her feet. _Seven – a queen-in-training? How could this be? Had events within the time line been changed_?

She gathered herself, not allowing any of her panic to show in her face or body. “I have come to propose a trade with you. We have information that will help you survive a certain enemy, one who has defied all your attempts to assimilate it until now. We will give this information to you in exchange for safe passage through your space in this quadrant.”

“The Borg do not trade; they assimilate,” Seven stated firmly. “Any information you have will be ours through our assimilation of you and your crew.”

“No, it won’t,” Janeway responded. “We have the information in a place where, if you attempt to incorporate it, it will be destroyed.”

“The Borg do not negotiate,” Seven repeated.

“Aren’t you at all interested? Aren’t you the least bit curious?” Janeway queried, hoping to somehow touch the buried human part of the drone female.

“The Borg grows through assimilation; curiosity is a weak human trait, irrelevant to our nature.” Seven moved closer to Janeway.

“I am sure that my information would add to your knowledge, would help you gain… perfection.” The hot sweat of her hands had become cold trickle running down her spine.

Another two steps – Seven was mere centimeters from Janeway. Her right arm swung upwards, towards Janeway’s neck. “The information you offer is not necessary; we will assimilate our needs.”

Long tubes appeared from the drone’s fingers, making their way to naked skin. “Existence as you know it is over. Your biological and technological distinctiveness will be added to our own. Resistance is futile…”

_No, Seven – this is not the way I wanted you to go! I didn’t want you to exist on Voyager, to interfere with our lives; but I didn’t want to kill you. Not this way. No… no…_

Janeway winced as the needle-like tubes pushed their way through her flesh, their searching nanoprobes burning a trail as they began their infiltration of her body, and ultimately her mind… and soul. She could already feel the physical changes beginning, her skin turning into mottled, metallic leather, her blood becoming mechanical. She had to get out what she had too say before it was too late... to ask for – no, beg – forgiveness.

She reached out to the young drone, grabbing her assaulting arm. “Seven, you are assimilating all that is me, including a neurogenic pathogen that I have been infected with. This has been transferred to you already; it happened as soon as you penetrated my skin. I… I meant this toxin to be for the queen, not you; I didn’t know that I would find you…”

For the first time since they had met, Janeway saw a hint of human thought in Seven’s eyes. The drone suddenly withdrew the probes. “You have… damaged me?” she asked.

Janeway’s assimilation progressed rapidly; she could barely find a voice to speak. “Not just you, but your entire collective. It will spread throughout the collective.” She was gasping for breath. “I am sorry, Seven.”

Even as the admiral spoke, the young Borg held out her arms, noting changes in their structure. She cried out with sudden pain, her hands flying to her head. “I am… impaired; my matrix is not functioning.”

Janeway’s eyes filled with tears. The beautiful female drone was falling apart in front of her… metal, flesh, wiring, all becoming disengaged, creating a chaos of assemblage, falling to disarray. Finally, the lights of her implants flickered and dimmed, accompanied by a diminishing humming sound.

Admiral Janeway’s senses were fading, too – her own systems shutting down. She accepted the approaching grayness and nothingness, but gave a final shudder as life seeped away. The last thing she would ever see – and would remember through eternity – was the destruction of Seven of Nine.

~*~

Captain Janeway swung into her command chair. “Mr. Paris, are you prepared to make our entry into the conduit?”

“Aye, Captain,” he responded. “Coordinates are entered, speed adjusted to go to top warp.”

“Transphasic torpedoes are armed and targets locked, Captain,” said Tuvok.

A loud clanging reverberated along the outside of the ship. “Enhanced hull plating activated,” Chakotay announced.

Janeway nodded her satisfaction. “Good; we’re almost there. Mr. Kim, lock onto Admiral Janeway’s coordinates so we can beam her back as soon as we go to warp.”

Harry Kim touched in her request, but quickly looked up from his monitor, his eyes despondent and confused. “Captain, I can’t find anything; there don’t appear to be any human life signs on the cube. Even… even the Borg drone signatures are fading…”

Janeway fell back into her chair. The admiral had done it – she had fatally infected the Borg. But at what cost? She sacrificed herself so that Voyager would live… _just as I was planning to do_.

They had to succeed with the rest of their plan – for her, the admiral from the future who came to save the Voyager of the present. _This one is for you, my friend…_

“I understand, Harry,” she said. “She knew that she probably would not return. She did this for us; let’s not let her down. Gentlemen, on my mark… _ **now**_!”

Voyager shook violently as the large torpedoes left their bays, each one honed in on its crucial target. At the same time, the ship lurched starboard as Tom swung it into the trajectory pattern that would lead through the hub and into the conduit that would take them into the Alpha Quadrant.

Eight seconds later, the view screen brightened with the pattern of a rift. Calling upon all the skill of his years of experience, Tom threaded Voyager into its narrow slit, a lone Borg cube racing after them. Explosions rocked all around as the torpedoes reached their targets within the web of the transwarp hub. A cascade reaction began as the complex fell into a shambles of destruction and doom.

With the rift fading to their bow, Janeway gave the order to Tuvok to assure their safe arrival in the Alpha Quadrant. “Fire the last torpedo. Mr. Tuvok – let’s seal that rift.”

Tuvok’s coordinates were on target. The jaws of the rift closed, taking within its dying gasp the last Borg cube.

Silence. Only darkness and stars appeared on the view screen.

“The Borg cube has been destroyed,” reported Tuvok. “Only residual tachyon particles remain.”

Tom’s voice took on a newfound thrill. “Captain, star patterns are in accordance with those of the Alpha Quadrant.”

Janeway squeezed the helmsman’s shoulder and exhaled; she hadn’t realized that she’d been holding her breath. “Excellent work, Tom. It’s good to be in familiar space again. Now – set coordinates for Earth… and home.”

She could have sworn she saw tears in Harry Kim’s eyes when she started walking back to the comm area. “Mr. Kim, open an all ship-wide channel. I think we should share this good news with the entire ship. Then, put in a hail Starfleet. But do it gently; we don’t want to scare them too much!”

She began to sit down but leaned over to Chakotay. “And Commander – write up some new duty rosters, using skeleton crews for the next twenty-four hours. I think all our people deserve a little bit of downtime. Something tells me we’re all going to be quite busy once Starfleet knows we’re back.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he smiled at her. “Anything else?”

Her face was weary, but her eyes sparkled with energy. “There are a few more things that…you and I need to discuss, but they can wait. Something tells me… that we’ll find the time.” She sank back into her chair and reached across the space between their two seats.

Chakotay took her extended hand and gave it a squeeze. His face broadened into a megawatt smile, lighting up the dimples that she had missed for so long. Her thumb drew soft circles in the palm of his hand, spelling out a prelude to her plea for forgiveness.

_It was over – they had made it. Three years of wandering through unknown space – no known contacts, facing enemies, making allies, merging and holding together two diverse crews, becoming one_.

Paris’ voice interrupted her quiet thoughts. “Captain, I’ve set a course for Earth.”

“Then… take us home, Mr. Paris – engage!”

_Admiral, you were right; how I wish you were here to share this moment. But something tells me that you know – and that you even know what lies ahead. Thank you for everything; but most of all, thank you for giving me a second chance for the most important thing in my life._

~*~

EPILOGUE

_Six weeks later…San Francisco_

The moon reflected off the waters of San Francisco Bay, its bright beams dancing through long windows, into a darkened room. The only sounds in the room came from occasional intakes of breath, coming from a large bed, obviously in use from the appearance of irregular curves and bumps underneath the undulating covers.

Chakotay rolled over and brushed several loose strands of hair back from Kathryn’s forehead. “Did I ever tell you how beautiful you are in the moonlight?” he smiled.

“When have you ever seen me in the moonlight?” she laughed, drawing an outline around his lips with a finger.

“In a boat… on Lake George,” he beamed back

“Lake George?” she asked. “We’ve never been to Lake George together!”

“Oh, yes we have – two years ago, on one of Voyager’s holodecks.” He enclosed her fingers and began kissing them. “Remember?”

“And you gave me a rose,” she recalled. “I think that’s the only time anyone ever gave me flowers the entire time we were in the Delta Quadrant!”

His kisses left her fingers and started up her arm. “Then I’d better get busy to make up for that omission!”

She shivered as his lips and tongue found a sensitive area on the soft underside of her arm. “Then I’d better warn Boothby to watch out for his rose garden,” she murmured huskily.

“That’s one more thing that I’ll have Starfleet harassing me about,” he chortled.

“They haven’t been that bad, have they?” she asked, snuggling into the support of his chest.

He nestled his chin on her head. “No; it could have been a lot worse, especially with the state of the Maquis now.” She heard the sorrow in his voice, knowing that one of the first things he’d learned after their contact with Starfleet was the devastation of the Maquis forces, with few survivors.

She wrapped her arms around him, drawing him close. “I’m sorry about your friends and allies, Chakotay – I truly am. But you and all your crew might have been among them if I hadn’t come after you… and we began our adventure.” His heart began beating harder, drumming its response into her ear. “You… B’Elanna, Tom, Tuvok… and all the others… you could have been caught in the massacre, too.”

“I know; I’ve thought about that often. You saved our lives even then, just as you did so many times over the last three years.” He pulled back and took her chin in his hand, looking deep into the blue pools of her eyes. “You’re quite a woman, Kathryn Janeway.”

“We did it together, Chakotay. I could never have done it without you.”

He leaned down and kissed her. “But you even saved us from the future – that was no small feat!”

“I learned a lot the older I got,” she smiled, kissing him back.

His hands began wandering down her body. “Well, you certainly have gotten wiser these past few weeks!”

“Mmm,” she responded, in response to his question or touch or both. “You can thank her for that, too.”

He looked up from his task. “The admiral? Really? What all did she say?” his face suddenly filled with curiosity.

“Nothing much,” she continued. “But… there was something in her manner, in her purpose. Chakotay, I think she made this trip as much to make things right between you and me as to get Voyager back to the Alpha Quadrant.”

“She told you this?” he asked.

Kathryn began tracing his tattoo. “Never outright. There were just little things, sly innuendos… that sort of thing. It was as if there was something she was trying to prevent, to keep from happening. There was an urgency to her actions, as if our encounter with the Borg at that particular time was a pivotal moment in our odyssey.”

“Well, it was,” he answered. “It brought us home and let us rediscover one another.”

“But what if… in her timeline… that never happened?” she wondered. “What if we continued to separate, like the direction in which we were headed? Would each of us withdrawn into our own world, ignoring each other for the rest of the time? Could our personal lives have set so much off balance?”

He leaned back among the pillows, her words causing him to reflect, too. “I don’t know if I could have done what she did.”

“My thoughts precisely.” She gazed down at him. “Chakotay, I tried to suffocate everything I felt for you – everything that had been growing since that first day you appeared on the bridge. I was wrong… and oh so selfish. I know my actions have hurt you far more than any physical injury we had.” She stopped long enough to seal her pledge with a slow kiss. “Now – like the flowers I never received – it’s time to make up for all those lost opportunities, to heal all the open wounds. Chakotay, now and forever – I want to let you love me… and I need to love you.”

He rolled over on top of her, his response hot and evident. “Kathryn Janeway, that’s a long time. But I think we can manage.”

~ FINIS ~

  
**Author’s notes** : _I know that I’ve taken a lot of liberties with canon here – even ignored ole Neelix and Kes… sniff, sniff! However, I’ve tried to stick with the ‘facts’ closely, just fiddled around with them enough to make these marvelous episodes better. As for poor Seven of Nine – it’s true; I derived a great deal of pleasure killing her off not just once but twice. [weg] The challenge was in trying to make it ethical for the Admiral to do her in._

  
  
  



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